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<title>Tied by hope, Ruined by hope by Huggy6ear_Angel</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967420">Tied by hope, Ruined by hope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggy6ear_Angel/pseuds/Huggy6ear_Angel'>Huggy6ear_Angel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:43:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggy6ear_Angel/pseuds/Huggy6ear_Angel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate way for Ties of Red to unfold.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aro/Carlisle Cullen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tied by hope, Ruined by hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580423">Ties of Red</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzinvolterra/pseuds/zzinvolterra">zzinvolterra</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Highly suggest you read that^ first.  This will make even less sense otherwise.<br/>Thank you zz for coming up with such ideas, and for letting me do this.<br/>This story begins right after the first paragraph of Ties of Red.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Carlisle Cullen.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aro tries not to think about him, but day after day he catches himself with his own fingers wrapped around his wrist, loosely, absent-midedly, wondering and waiting. <em>English in origin most likely. </em>He fears sometimes that Carlisle Cullen is a man of the New World.</p><p> </p><p>He is supposed to wait and trust. He does neither.</p><p> </p><p>Counting the days, he had been relieved when Carlisle Cullen had turned five, his chances of surviving had risen. Counting the years -nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two- most likely a married man by now.</p><p>Aro is not jealous and he is certainly not hopeful. Hope is manipulative, destructive and serves only one god, Death.</p><p>Aro never hopes, but perhaps, at times, despite himself, he wishes.</p><p> </p><p>Carlisle is a little older than twenty three, Aro claims he isn't sure (four months and twenty three days) when he feels a burning on his wrist. He checks frantically, terrified for a moment and he sees the name grow thicker, dig deeper into his flesh, glow a brighter colour and for a moment (Gods it was for one moment!) he hopes.</p><p>The neat letters hurt, a pain different than the burning -<em>panic</em>-, they crack -<em>terror</em>- and the bright, brilliant red that lasted for a moment fades -<em>despair</em>- and fades, becoming nothing more than an unremarkable stain caused by carelessness -<em>lament</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Aro stares at his white, empty skin for hours, days. What should he be feeling? Is there a point in mourning a would-be? He had lost nothing but a potential maybe. Why then, does he feel the pointlessness of everything?</p><p> </p><p>Carlisle Cullen, his Carlisle, <em>his</em>, supposedly inevitably yet somehow never was.</p><p> </p><p>Aro ignores his brothers' advice, travels through Europe, from one city to the next, taking his time.</p><p>
  <em>Carlisle Cullen was a prince, well cared for, dressed in gold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was a poor boy, raised in a large family, a hard worker, always tired and always smiling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was a scholar for sure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He couldn't as much as read.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An artist, a farmer, a father, a soldier.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aro aims to touch all messengers, all travelers and foreigners, raising his chances of success.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He had dark hair, and blond hair, he had freckles, with the most brilliant green, ordinary brown eyes. He was happy, desperate for someone to help him, he was living in a village, he was friends with everyone, alone in a foreign city.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rome is empty, and so is Madrid and Bucharest and Prague and Berlin and Paris.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His town was raided, he was bitten and passed hand in hand with those who loved him. He was attacked alone, scared and hurting. His maker had mourned his passing, had killed him on purpose.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aro has no intention to return home without an answer. Time is meaningless now.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He would have stayed in Volterra, he would be a king, he would be ruthless, kind. He would be terrible at ruling, they would leave together. He would be odd, average, brilliant, naive. They would be enemies, friends, brothers, strangers, lovers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He would be passionate and smart and his eyes would be mesmerizing in their scarlet glory...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>No, that isn't right.</p><p> </p><p>London smells of death, it has for centuries now, Aro remembers. Pointless, his search is pointless, he knows but has no strength to stop as he touches man after man after woman after child. </p><p><em>Carlisle Cullen</em>, not here, not there, lost forever in an endless nowhere.</p><p> </p><p><em>Torches and screams and howling fires,</em> there are vampires in London, he sees.</p><p> </p><p>He chases after the man he had stolen the memory from, speaks to him.</p><p>"A massacre sir. We burned the demons, but we lost many good men. Even preacher Cullen's boy."</p><p> </p><p>Aro stares.</p><p> </p><p>The son of a priest, who fell fighting his fate.</p><p> </p><p>He goes to see the priest, gives his condolences for his lost son.</p><p>"Were you friends?" the mourning father asks.</p><p>"I hope so."</p><p> </p><p>No grave to grieve over, no stone to leave flowers, no place to set his heart.</p><p> </p><p>Carlisle Cullen, stolen from his fate, robbed of his own peace...</p><p> </p><p>Aro had been wrong, Hope didn't serve Death, for death was inevitable and peaceful. Hope dutifully, blindly and cruelly served Chaos.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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